Sharing Happiness
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: "Because no matter how old you are and no matter how old they are, you're still their little girl ... They're happy because you're happy; let them share in it." (or, Frozen Swan and the Charmings post-Captain Swan date)


**Title:** Sharing Happiness  
**Summary: "**Because no matter how old you are and no matter how old they are, you're still their little girl ... They're happy because you're happy; let them share in it."  
**Spoilers:** 4x04, "The Apprentice."  
**Characters:** Emma, Elsa, Snow, and Charming. Because we all need a little more Frozen Swan/Charming Family bonding, yes?  
**Rating/Warning: **K+. Because swear words. Maybe perhaps have a toothbrush on standby.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm just playing in someone else's toy box.  
**Author's Note:** Something about Emma's and Elsa's delayed firsts makes me weirdly happy. It's terrible that they didn't reach these certain little milestones when they should have but I think that's what makes it all the more wonderful that they're getting them now. This is the result of me wanting to play with those delayed firsts a bit, along with a healthy dose of family bonding, because of course. There's also a little wink-and-nod in here to my "what else happens on the Captain Swan date" piece, "Bella Notte," just for giggles. Feedback thrills me to pieces! Enjoy. :)

* * *

Emma Swan couldn't believe that her parents had _waited up_ for her.

Well, okay, she could believe it, just based on how they were acting before she left, but still. What was she, sixteen? Was this how a teenager felt on her first date? She was a grown woman, for crying out loud, and she'd gone on many a date in her life.

Although, this date wasn't really like all the others. And she'd never had parents to wait up for her before.

This weird conflict between sorta kinda liking the parental attention and railing against it because, frankly, she was far too old for it was kind of exhausting, to be perfectly honest. And confusing. Very confusing.

It was just … she'd never had this, and she should have. She should have had parents waiting up for her and she should have had first dates that started with the guy picking her up at home and her father putting the fear of God in her date of choice. But she hadn't had any of it and here she was, a grown woman with a child of her own, getting the teenager treatment.

And on the one hand, it was ridiculous and kind of embarrassing but on the other hand, it was an absolutely wonderful reminder of how she'd finally found a home … _her_ home.

So yeah, _very_ confusing.

She called to her parents from the steps to let them know that she could still hear them discussing her as if she wasn't there. They responded by lowering their voices. She knew they were still talking – and obviously discussing her – but she could no longer make out what they were saying. Which, she supposed, was an improvement.

Sighing heavily, she trudged up the last of the steps, eager to kick her shoes off, fall into bed, and ignore the yearning ache in her chest from having to say good night.

Which was, in its own way, confusing and also kind of terrifying. Emma Swan did not do yearning aches.

All her thoughts of simply climbing into bed and letting the giddiness – which was also a thing Emma Swan did not do – of the evening soothe her to sleep came crashing down around her. As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she discovered that her parents weren't the only ones who had waited up for her.

The queen of Arendelle herself was sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, paging through Storybrooke's census records in the dim light of Emma's bedside lamp. "Have you been at it since I left?" Emma asked. If so, how in the hell were her eyes not crossing by now? Emma's own eyes started to cross four files into a stack of paperwork.

Elsa looked up, a smile tugging at her lips when she saw her friend. "You are positively _glowing_."

Heat rushed to Emma's cheeks. She most certainly was not glowing, and she made a mental note to add "glowing" to the increasingly long list of Things Emma Swan Did Not Do. "And _you_ are avoiding my question."

"Just as you are avoiding my statement," Elsa pointed out, a mischievous glint in her eye.

_Touché,_ Emma thought as she plopped down on the edge of the bed. Elsa sat up a little straighter, her eyes eager and bursting with silent questions. It seemed she, too, wanted to hear some details from Emma's night.

Sensing opportunity, Emma decided to take her sweet time undoing her date preparations. She kicked off her shoes, for which her feet thanked her profusely, and slowly began freeing her hair from its ponytail.

Tortuously slowly.

Once Elsa caught onto what she was doing, she huffed, leaned forward, pushed Emma's hands out of the way, and finished the ponytail removal herself. "There," she said, handing Emma back her hair tie. "Now you can no longer stall. How was your evening?"

Emma had had every intention of keeping up her little game just a bit longer, so it was a complete shock to her when she found herself saying, "It was amazing."

Where the hell did that come from? Frankly, she felt she was much too old to be acting like a giggly teenager, talking about boys and giving her friend all the details upon arriving home. Then again, she'd never had the chance to do this as an actual teenager, so maybe she was just unconsciously trying to make up for lost time.

Apparently, so was Elsa. She grinned, set the book aside, and said, "You have to tell me everything."

And so Emma did. Not _everything_, of course, but she went through the whole evening, from the walk to the restaurant to what they had for dinner to Killian walking her home to the kiss in the hallway. "Ah, so there _was_ a good night kiss," Elsa teased, chuckling when Emma's cheeks flushed again. "I'm glad you had a good time. You deserve it, Emma."

Emma _had_ had a good time, a _really_ good time. And yet part of her was terrified because typically, once she got to a certain level of happiness, the other shoe always dropped. She would get something, something good and something nice and something that made her happy, and then it would get taken away.

The expression on her face must have changed because Elsa suddenly looked concerned. "Emma? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she replied, forcing a smile.

Elsa gave her a gentle, knowing look. "That's not nothing. What's the matter?"

Emma sighed. "Nothing's the matter. It's just … me, I guess. I'm–"

"Frightened?"

Emma nodded, her eyes wide in amazement. How in the hell did she know?

And there again was that knowing expression on her friend's face. "Caring for people always involves an element of risk, doesn't it? The more you care for someone – the more you love someone – the more pain that someone can cause you. And you've had your fair share of pain, of people leaving, haven't you?"

_That_ was how she knew, Emma realized. That lonely childhood the two of them had experienced had given Elsa insight into the difficulties Emma faced at letting people in, of accepting love, of daring to hope that love was in the cards, and of being petrified that love would go away.

"I'm not afraid that he's going to leave," Emma said, feeling the need to clarify her feelings lest Elsa get the wrong idea. "I mean, the man gave up his ship – his _home_ – to find me. He's not going anywhere … at least, not on purpose."

"And there's the rub, isn't it?"

There was the rub indeed. "As you've seen, life here isn't exactly peaceful. Now it's the Dairy Queen but before her it was the Wicked Witch of the West and before her it was Peter Pan and before _him_ it was Regina and her mother. As the savior, I'm in the middle of it all, and as the savior, I've seen more than my fair share of people die."

Elsa's expression grew impossibly kinder. She was quiet a moment before reaching for Emma's hand. "It was easier being alone. If you kept people at arm's length, you didn't have to worry about the pain of people leaving you. I understand that completely, Emma. I did the exact same thing myself for a very long time. However, while keeping people at arm's length may be surviving, it's not living."

The words struck Emma as vaguely familiar. If she thought hard enough, she could almost hear them in another voice, a crackly, faraway voice that she swore sounded like her father's.

And then it clicked. "Did my dad say that to you when we were in the ice cave?"

Elsa smiled. "Yes, and he knew to say it to me because my sister once said it to him. My sister took a chance on me, a chance I'm still not entirely sure I deserved. I am so very grateful that she did because the happiness that chance awarded me, the love and comfort and sense of belonging … that's what makes life worth living. You deserve that, too, Emma."

Well, then. How the hell was Emma supposed to respond to that? She blinked rapidly to disperse the tears that had welled in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "It seems to me you most definitely deserved the chance your sister took on you," she said once she'd gotten her emotions under control. "We're going to find her, Elsa. That thing about me giving people their happy endings? That includes you, too."

Elsa's smile grew wider, and she appeared touched by Emma's promise. "I know we are. And thank you."

Emma smiled back before standing, digging a pair of pajamas out of her dresser, and heading down to the bathroom to change. She noted with relief that her parents had finally gone to bed; at least she wouldn't have to come up with excuses to avoid further conversation.

She changed, washed her face, and brushed her teeth in record time. As she glanced in the mirror to make sure she'd gotten all her makeup off, she noticed a faint flush to her cheeks. Holy crap, she _was_ glowing.

_Damn_ it.

Sighing, she flicked off the bathroom light and headed back upstairs. Elsa had finally set the census book aside for the night and made herself comfortable on the bed. On her third night with Emma and her family, she'd started sleeping on top of the covers. "I don't need them," she'd explained to her new friend, then added teasingly, "and besides, you have a tendency to hog them during the night."

Right now, with Elsa dressed in a borrowed pair of Emma's pajamas, it was almost easy to forget that she was queen of a realm Emma hadn't even known existed prior to their time in the ice cave. "You know," Emma said as she climbed into bed beside her, "you can borrow some of my clothes, too, not just my pajamas, if you want."

"I know, and thank you for the offer, but I think I'll stick with what I have." Elsa's smile turned equal parts sheepish and slightly wistful. "It helps me feel closer to Anna."

Emma smiled back and, after making sure Elsa was settled, switched off the lamp. Then she snuggled under the blankets that she apparently hogged, shut her eyes, and tried to settle her thoughts so she could sleep.

After a couple minutes of silence, Elsa whispered, "You know what you should do in the morning?"

"What?"

"Tell your parents about your date."

Emma snapped her eyes open and stared at her friend in the dim ambient light. "What? Why?"

"Because no matter how old you are and no matter how old they are, you're still their little girl. They're happy for you. Both of them, even though your father's giving Killian a hard time. They're happy because you're happy; let them share in it."

Okay, Emma had to admit, that was a reasonable point. "Maybe. We'll see."

"That's all I can ask."

Again, they settled into silence. Just as Emma was drifting off, she heard a soft whisper. "Emma? You still awake?"

Barely. "Mm-hmm."

"On a scale of one to ten, how was that good night kiss?"

Emma grinned in the darkness, giddy at both the recollection of the kiss and the excitement of having a friend with whom to share it. "A twelve."

* * *

When Emma opened her eyes in the morning, she found Elsa already awake and hitting the books, literally. She sat hunched over yet another of the census books and from the irritation in her eyes, Emma guessed that her search hadn't yielded even the tiniest of hints. "Anything yet?" she mumbled groggily.

"Nothing's jumping out at me," Elsa sighed, tearing her gaze from the page to smile a greeting at her friend. "Good morning, by the way."

"G'morning," Emma replied. She lay still, content to shut her eyes and drift for a while in that fuzzy realm between asleep and awake.

Her baby brother, apparently, had other ideas. After a few minutes of quiet, he started wailing from the bedroom below, startling Emma from her near-sleep. "He's worse than an alarm clock," she groaned, causing Elsa to stifle a giggle.

Emma could hear one of her parents trying to quiet the little squirt but the damage was done. She sat up, ran her hand over her face, and tried to ignore the amused sparkle in her friend's eyes.

Then she threw the covers off her legs and climbed out of bed. If she was going to have to be up, she wanted breakfast. "I'm going to head down to eat," she said to Elsa as she combed her fingers through her hair in an effort to calm the tangles that had taken over during the night. "You coming?"

"Not just yet. I want to make it through the end of this book, at least."

All of a sudden, Emma's superpower ramped into overdrive. Elsa didn't want to stay upstairs to finish the book. At least not this very instant. There was something else, some other reason behind her decision to hang back.

It was only when Emma thought back to their conversation the previous night that she understood. In the only way she could, Elsa was trying to give her a little private time with her parents in the hope that she would take her advice and tell them at least a little bit about the date with Killian.

Emma was touched. Elsa may not have believed that she deserved the chance that Anna afforded her but she most certainly did. In fact, it was Emma who didn't really know if she deserved a friend like Elsa.

An expression of understanding passed between the two women and Emma, in an effort to save at least outward face, said, "Suit yourself. I'll bring you up some Pop-Tarts."

Elsa wrinkled her brow. "What are Pop-Tarts?"

Much like introducing Killian to ravioli, this? Was going to be fun. "Some of this world's magic," Emma smiled. "You'll see in a few."

Elsa returned her smile and went back to poring over the records as Emma padded down the stairs. David was already at the stove, scrambling some eggs, and Snow was bouncing a fussy Neal in her arms. "Good morning," Emma said.

"Good morning, kiddo."

"Morning, sweetheart."

Emma's heart caught in her chest. This was_ real_ now. She had parents who loved her, parents who had little pet names for her – little pet names she was shocked to find she actually liked. She had parents who adored her and wanted her to be happy.

And, like Elsa had said, she had parents who deserved to share in that happiness.

Unsure how to broach the subject, Emma kissed her brother good morning and busied herself with grabbing a mug from the cabinet for her coffee. In her head, she was trying to think of a way to ease them into the conversation, but what came tumbling out as she recalled her mother's eagerness from the night before was, "Great, yes, and yes."

Both of her parents frowned at her, utterly confused, and honestly, she couldn't blame them. They hadn't been privy to her mental meanderings, after all. "Your questions from last night," she clarified somewhat sheepishly. "The restaurant was great. Yes, we did go somewhere after. And yes, there was a good night kiss."

Snow and David exchanged a surprised glance. Then they both looked at her with touched comprehension. She was sharing – she was sharing with _them_ – and they couldn't have been more thrilled.

David had to stay at the stove with the eggs but Snow was free to follow Emma to the table while gently rocking a calming Neal. "Are there any more details you'd like to offer up?"

"I introduced Killian to ravioli," Emma said, smiling at the memory, "and we talked a lot, had a really nice time. He made me forget about the Dairy Queen for a few hours, anyway. The beginning was a little rocky, though … which reminds me, Dad, Will Scarlet was there. We should get on tracking him down when we get to work."

David frowned at that. "Did he give you a hard time? Is that why the beginning was rocky?"

"No. Well, yes, but no. He spilled wine, it was an accident. He took off but I let him go ... because well, I was kind of off the clock."

He nodded, smiling in understanding. "We'll find him."

Sheriff talk was apparently not what Snow was interested in because she shifted the conversation back to the more important topic. "But all things totaled, you had a good time?"

Emma's answer immediately came, honest and easy as pie. "I had a wonderful time."

Snow smiled, a gentle, warm, _motherly _smile. "I'm very glad to hear that, Emma."

"I am, too," David agreed.

For a moment, Emma was afraid the two of them were going to turn this into a _moment_. One of those touchy-feely, Hallmark-card, sniffle-inducing moments that had been happening more and more lately and, to her embarrassment, always made emotion well up in her chest. Then, as David lifted the frying pan off the burner to plate up the eggs, he added, "However, let's not mention this good night kiss ever again."

Emma snickered, both in relief that he hadn't taken the conversation to Hallmark Moment territory and because he was totally playing up the dad thing just to make her smile – his own version of a dad joke. Well, two could very well play that game. If he wanted to give her stereotypical dad, she could certainly give him stereotypical daughter. "_God_, Dad," she said in her best annoyed teenager tone.

Her parents grinned at her and the three of them settled down to eat. Family meals were something Emma was still getting used to, but she had to admit, this one was a lot of fun. Snow continued to pepper her with questions about her evening. Emma answered – sometimes teasingly, sometimes seriously, but always honestly. Snow quite obviously adored the whole thing, smiling at and exclaiming over the details Emma offered, while David responded like … well, like a _dad_, all groaning and wincing whenever Killian's name come up but clearly just as thrilled for his little girl as his wife.

And upstairs in the loft, Elsa, who couldn't help but overhear this little bit of family bonding time because sound carried in that little apartment, smiled.


End file.
